All my scars were old
They still crisscrossed my arms
But they were faded
And clearly from another time
Letâ€™s go back and find
The source of the madness
The kinda of self hatred bordering on narcissism
Is that a thing?
To obsess over ones self negatively
But with so much detail and commitment
That itâ€™s almost a compliment really
So yes letâ€™s unpack
So many suitcases lining the walls
covering my floors,Â
Insulating my fucking halls.
There are tags on each suitcase
Names and dates
Different provinces and states
So bittersweet the passage of time.Â
Where are you coming from and where
Are you headed?Â
What do you long for and what can you do instead of?
I want to cremate every suitcase
And scatter the ashes in the wind
Purify my soul of any sin
And be free…..